The days of the hipster are upon us, and you canít get a coffee without those non-prescription Buddy Holly eyeglasses gazing at your abysmal cafÈ mocha. For too long America has seen itself taken over by inferior trends, lacking in the areas hipsters all but overachieve. Itís about time such a unique, original idea permeated our society.
The past 50 years have seen their share of movements, of which I was alive for none but know everything about. The hippies of the 60s spoke for free love, music, peace and harmony, along with a toke and trip or two. The rockers separated themselves from the punks starting in the 1970s, whose themes of rebellion and anti-establishment presented themselves through punctuated riffs and torn jackets. The list continues throughout the century; the goths and their dismal views on life, britpopís fascination with Oasis and Blur, emos and the persona of them against the world. Thankfully, these ideas sit shotgun to the hipsters who are driving the culture bus.
So, what is a hipster? Well, therein lies the problem. If you ask a kid wearing black eyeliner, long black pants and twelve piercings on his right nostril if heís Goth, heíll probably say yes (maybe followed by an obscenity). Hipsters, however, donít adhere to this trend. How many times has someone you know identified themselves as a hipster?
Sure, a group might all be wearing v-neck tees and scoffing at Dirty Projectors because they were so last month, but youíre more likely to find a winning football season in Cleveland than this crowd acknowledging their hipsterdom. This leaves the non-cool to only speculate who does and doesnít belong to this groundbreaking society, its followers seeming to employ the ìIím not emo, Iím scene” strategy of distancing themselves.
Hipsters love to inform you about the obscure bands they saw at the dive bar last week, though unfortunately now they arenít cool anymore. Hipsters have the ingenious ability to achieve individuality by acting the exact same way. Chilling with Pabst Blue Ribbon, Parliament cigarettes and unnecessary glasses, hipsters canít wait to have a fun night of sitting around in self-perpetuated poverty. I just want to contribute to their discussion, ìSure, Martin Scorsese directed some of the best movies of all time, and Francis Ford Coppola may have made some movies that geeky movie buffs know, but Wes Andersonís indie soundtrack and anguished white-guy story with a quirky setting is so unique and groundbreaking every time he comes out with a movie.”
Now I feel better. I can go to Goodwill and find V-neck hipsters from the suburbs browsing shelves alongside workers under the poverty line. I know now how mainstream media is just so lame, especially considering how different hipsters look from Urban Outfitters mannequins. Thank goodness I didnít buy a PC because it was economically feasible and I didnít feel like I needed to shell out two grand for a similar notebook.
Their ability to value corporate products while undermining those people who donít choose the right ones is astounding. Because thatís whatís great about hipsters: they donít believe in anything. I know a hippie because of their love of peace and jam bands, a punk through his leather jacket and rebellion. Hipsters donít have an M.O., and why should they? Why do subcultures need a backbone, a doctrine to pursue, a culture to change? Canít we all just be happy with stealing the costumes of previous movements, pretentiously denying opinions which arenít ìcool?” Finally, a subculture I can believe in.
John McGovern is a regular contributor to the Voice. He can be reached for comment at JMcGovern12@wooster.edu.